Conspiracy (10 page)

So I sat down at once right here in the maze, to write it all down so I wouldn't forget anything. And I think it's very interesting that— Oh, somebody's shouting for me.

I must catch up with all that has happened, so I am writing this secretly at the joust.

It was Mary Shelton shouting for me in the garden, so I went over to her. She was very red in the face from dancing practice. “You are so lucky to get out of the dancing,” she moaned to me. “I don't think it's fair—why should we have to go over and over it and get shouted at? Anyway, the Queen wants you because you have a speech to give, and one of the Earl's house-poets has written it.”

My heart sank. It would probably be very long, and the rhymes idiotic. It's a terrible pity nothing
much rhymes with
Elizabeth
, because very often poets call the Queen
Eliza
so they can rhyme it with
surprise her
, or worse.

We all headed back into the castle. Ellie came with us so she could gather some dirty laundry and use it as her excuse for being away so long.

When I got to the Long Gallery, all the Maids of Honour were there, as well as four Ladies-in-Waiting—so there were ten naiads and dryads in all. They were fanning themselves and drinking mild ale thirstily. It looked as if it would be a very vigorous dance, but that's how the Queen likes them.

The Dancing Master, Monsieur Danton, was drinking aqua vitae by the gulp. “Now zen, milady Grace,” he said, “You 'ave just a few steps,
vous comprenez?
Only a very few. And zen you say zis speech …” He gave me a long scroll and I looked at it with foreboding. It began, “All hail, fair England's fairest Queen. All hail, our gracious Eliza …,” which told me all I needed to know.

The Queen arrived, pages running ahead of her shouting, “The Queen!” She had been doing governing, closeted with Sir William Cecil and a pile of papers to do with Scotland. She looked in a very bad temper, and practically shoved Cecil through the
door, to be rid of him before he could start prosing on about some other administrative problem. Then she came and stood by the Dancing Master, who bowed and cringed. She smiled at him, and spoke to him in French, and then laughed at his protestations. Ireally wanted to talk to the Queen privately and tell her what I had found out, but I didn't get the chance immediately.

“Come!” said the Queen, clapping her hands. “Let us see this dance.”

The other five Maids of Honour lined up, curtsied, and began to skip and hop, first to one side, then the other. Then they made a ring, circled each other as in a Bergomask, and then formed a Farandole Snail Shell. At the end of it, I read my speech as best I could, stumbling over all the odd words.

Next, the Queen took Lady Sarah's place—which made everybody tense up—and did what she could remember of the dance. Monsieur Danton kept stopping the musicians, playing wearily in the corner, to correct her steps, and after some changes had been made to show off her jumping abilities, the dance was really quite good.

Then the Queen gave Lady Sarah some Queening tuition—as in holding up your head, walking confidently, moving slowly, and always expecting people
to make way for you. Lady Sarah was surprisingly good at it, all things considered, which made Lady Jane look very shrewish indeed. I'm sure she thinks
she
should be the one pretending to be the Queen, even though she looks nothing like Her Majesty. But it is hardly Sarah's fault that the Queen chose her, so there's no call for Jane to sneer like she does.

At last the Queen said she was satisfied, and we filed down the stairs to the Hall to eat our dinner. I was quite hungry, as I hadn't eaten any of the sweetmeats in the Banqueting House. But, alas, it was one of those dreadful formal meals where you sit about for ages while the food is paraded around and carved very slowly and then brought on big platters.

The Queen sat under her Cloth of Estate and received local gentlemen, and the Earl of Leicester's friends—not that he has many. Nobody likes him much at all—the courtiers are all jealous of his friendship with the Queen.

We were scattered about the tables in order to talk to the gentlemen, and I got a very dull man who talked about sheep the whole time.

After the second cover, when we were about to remove to the Banqueting House, the Queen beckoned me over. “Well, Lady Pursuivant,” she said, “what have you discovered?”
“That two of the three accidents were no accidents, Your Majesty,” I whispered.

She drew in a sharp breath and frowned. “Are you sure?” she snapped. “Who caused them?”

“I don't know that yet, Your Majesty. I know only that your saddle fell off because someone had cut the stitching, and that the tail fell off the lion because someone had chipped at it—mayhap with a chisel.”

“Good God! Is someone trying to kill me?” she demanded. She was speaking to me out of the side of her mouth as she smiled graciously at a local knight who was proposing a toast to her.

Her Majesty was pale but I could tell she was furiously angry.

I thought about it very carefully. “Possibly, Your Majesty,” I said seriously. “If I may be excused this afternoon also, perchance I could find out more of the firework. I could slip away while everyone is watching the jousting.”

Her Majesty nodded.

I hesitated. “And may I have Ellie from the laundry to attend me?” I asked.

“Of course,” the Queen said. “That is very sensible of you. It's always best to have a witness to these
things.” She sent a page for paper and'pen and then wrote a note for me, saying that I had need of Ellie and that Ellie had her permission to assist me.

As we were talking, Masou and the fauns came tumbling in, and invited us to a bower to eat the fruits of the earth.

We all stood up and processed, with music, to the Banqueting House. There were the delicious sweetmeats that Ellie had raided, but we all exclaimed with excitement because there were also heaps of soft fruit and clotted creams and custards for us to eat.

I fetched a big bowl of strawberries and raspberries and cream, after the Queen had been served with them. I don't know how the Earl of Leicester managed to find so many strawberries. He must have gardens full of strawberry plants somewhere, and I hoped I could find some for Ellie, as I didn't dare put any in my pocket lest they be squashed and stain my petticoat.

Lady Sarah and Lady Jane were greedily eating raspberries, while Mary Shelton had at least two custards.

When the time came to go out to the jousting in the Tilting Yard, I slipped away to the lake, where I
had seen the women washing shirts on some rocks. Ellie was standing there scowling, with her arms folded, while Mrs. Fadget shouted at her.

“Oh, we're very high and mighty, ain't we, Ellie? Ay must attend 'Er Grace. Ay can't do the washing what ay'm paid for. Oh, no, Mistress Ellie, she's too high and mighty for that.”

What I really wanted to do was hit Mrs. Fadget, but instead I went up behind her and coughed. She turned, about to shout at me, too, but then saw who I was and dropped a very begrudging curtsy. “Yes, ma'am, how can I 'elp you?”

Well, there's nothing angry adults hate more than smiling politeness, so I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “I'm afraid I must borrow Ellie again to attend me on an errand for the Queen.”

Mrs. Fadget went purple.

“Here is the Queen's note for you,” I went on, very politely, and gave her the piece of paper upside down. Of course, as she couldn't read she didn't know that, though she recognized the Queen's signature from its elaborate curly shape.

She grunted and jerked her head at Ellie, who came trotting over and curtsied to me.

Then we hurried away, leaving the other women to
grumble at both Mrs. Fadget and Ellie herself, which hardly seemed fair.

“I knew Mrs. Fadget would be horrible to you,” I said. “I don't know why the Queen doesn't sack her.”

“Because she's a very good starch-woman,” said Ellie. “Anyway, she was right to shout at me this time, because I didn't go back when I said I would. I went down to the village.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

“To try and find the firework master for you,” Ellie explained.

“And did you?”

“Not exactly. I found his daughter, though.” Ellie led me out through the gate and down the lane to the village, which still smelled of whitewash.

The peasants' children were playing some complicated game with a ball made of rags. I watched them for a moment, wondering what it must be like to have so many other people to play with. I was often lonely when I was little, as there are few children at Court. Most ladies go home to their estates to have babies and then leave them there with wet nurses, and return to Court without them. My mother was very unusdal in having me with her in Court. But
then, her friendship with the Queen was special, too.

Ellie led me round the back to a barn and a leather tent. I could see a cart inside the barn, and a girl sitting spinning with a drop spindle beside the tent, but no sign of any firework master.

The girl was clearly expecting us, for she stood up when she saw me, wound up the wool, and curtsied. She looked very tense and unhappy.

Ellie went straight up and confronted her, hands on hips. “Now then,” she said. “Is your father awake yet?”

Silently, the girl went into the tent and came out again, shaking her head.

“Is he ill?” I asked, worrying about plague again, for in summer there is always that possibility.

“In a manner of speaking,” sniffed Ellie. “Seeing as Vs drunk.”

“Is it true your father was drunk last night as well?” I asked.

The girl nodded, looking close to tears. “But I told the Earl it's not like him to be drunk and incapable,” she said. “I've told 'im and told 'im but he didn't listen. He just said 'e'd never use us for fireworks again, and we was to be gone. I don't know what's to become of us.”

“You shouldn't have been so careless and hurt Gypsy Pete,” declared Ellie fiercely.

I glared at Ellie, then turned to the girl and said gently, “I want you to tell me everything that happened last night. I may be able to help you.”

She invited me to sit down on the tree-stump she had been using, and after some concentrated glaring from Ellie, she fetched me some mild ale. Then she told me that she was called Rosa Herron, and her father was Master John Herron, freeman of the Guild of Firework-makers and Ordnancers.

They had travelled up from London to Kenilworth with an escort from the Earl of Leicester, in case anyone tried to rob them of the fireworks on the way. Then, when they had arrived, they had set up the firework frames with the help of some of the Earl's men.

“But they was all checked carefully,” explained Rosa. “When you do a firework display they're all mounted on wooden frames so they go in the right direction, and my lord the Earl was very careful of it all. He checked the frames himself in the daylight, and he and my father did the calculations to be sure they would be safe. My father can read and write and use Arabic numbers, too,” she added proudly.

Then she put her face in her hands. “But he'll be driven from the Guild for sure, for his fireworks were not safe and my lord the Earl will never use us again and … and … that poor little boy …,” she sobbed.

I went over to her and patted her back. “You know, Rosa,” I said softly, “there were two other accidents that happened around the Queen yesterday. They turned out not to be accidents at all. Perchance the same is true of the firework. …”

Rosa calmed down enough to talk, and I went back and sat on the tree-stufnp. I took a sip of the mild ale she had given me and nearly spat it straight out again. It was horrible—vinegar fly must have got in it, for it was as sour as old guts.

Rosa saw my expression and looked downcast. “I'm sorry, my lady, it's been in the heat too much. You could have some of the double ale that one of Mr. Secretary Cecil's men brought yesterday?”

I was surprised. One of William Cecil's men? Usually it would be the lord of the castle who would supply the meat and drink to his workers.

Well, I was quite thirsty, and I do like double ale— though the Queen doesn't, so we don't have it much. So I nodded, and Rosa went and brought out
a large earthenware jar of double ale and poured some into a pewter mug for me.

“Everything was set for the evening,” Rosa went on, “and we went out on the firework island to watch the revels. We saw you and the Queen go out to the island, and then when it was time to set off the fireworks, I found that my father had fallen asleep and I couldn't wake him at all—”

“Drunk!” Ellie said disapprovingly, and Rosa flushed, so I nudged Ellie to be quiet. It's no good upsetting people when you want to hear the full story.

“You know,” I said, “many men drink too much sometimes. My uncle, Dr. Cavendish, occasionally staggers and it's difficult to make out what he's saying.”.

Rosa smiled back at me a little. “Father does drink a bit too much, that's true,” she said carefully. “I wouldn't deny it. He's always liked his ale and he drinks from his own flask of aqua vitae, too—but he's
never
so distempered of drink that he cannot deal with the fireworks. Never.”